


Cold Feet

by icandrawamoth



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [23]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Cold, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hoth, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 15:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13813743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Wes steals Hobbie's socks and must suffer the consequences.





	Cold Feet

**Author's Note:**

> For February Ficlet Challenge prompt "'What did you do with all of my socks?!'"

The only real indulgence in the Rebellion is a nice, hot shower – and now this cursed Hoth base has taken even that from them. Even if you could get pipes unfrozen for long enough to take a real water shower, you'd be frozen before you made it halfway back to your room if you missed so much as a drop while drying off.

So sonics only it is. Hobbie shivers as he quickly cleanses himself. Even though the area housing the base's sonic showers is kept warmer than it is elsewhere, it's still _frigid._ He steps out of the stall and pulls on his thick pajamas as quickly as he can.

That's when he realizes his second problem with a groan. He's forgotten to bring clean socks to change into. Sighing, he pushes bare feet into his boots and laces them up. If he hurries, he may make it back to the room he shares with Wes while he still has feeling in his toes.

He steps in the door with only a vague sense of resentment as he sees his boyfriend still huddled in bed under a pile of thick blankets. “If you don't take a sonic at some point, I'm kicking your stinky ass out of bed whether you like it or not,” Hobbie grouses as he opens a drawer.

And frowns, because there are no socks there. There should be a pile of nice thick heat-retaining socks; they were there when he left the room, he's sure of it. “Wes? What happened to my socks?”

The pile of blankets shifts and a muffled voice emerges: “My feet were cold.”

“ _What?_ ”

Hobbie turns, yanking up the end of the blankets, ignoring Wes's cry as he takes in the sight of his boyfriend's feet blown to comic proportions as he's managed to put on what must be at least a dozen pairs of socks all one over the other. “You've got be kidding me.”

“Hob _bie_!” Wes whines, pulling on the blankets. “You're letting all the cold in!”

“You stole all my socks!”

“You weren't using them.”

Hobbie presses a hand to his forehead. Really there's no use arguing. Instead, he lifts the edge of the blankets and sits down, sliding off his boots and sticking his bare feet beneath the blankets before he can get too much of a chill. As he settles in next to Wes, he reaches down, catches the edge of Wes's loose sleep pants and pulls them up, pressing his chilled feet in against warm skin.

Wes yelps like he's been stabbed, trying to jerk away, but Hobbie already has a death grip on him. “Hobbie!”

“Serves you right,” Hobbie huffs as he huddles in close to him. “If I can't have my own socks to keep me warm, you'll just have to do.”


End file.
